


A Forsaken Life

by TheScarletWarrior



Series: Assassin's Creed Bird AU [1]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Birds, Brothers, Childhood Trauma, F/M, Guardian-Ward Relationship, M/M, Parent-Child Relationship, Young Haytham Kenway, little bit of FrenchFryes at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:08:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27607438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheScarletWarrior/pseuds/TheScarletWarrior
Summary: Haytham Kenway, from then to now.
Relationships: Arno Dorian/Jacob Frye, Edward Kenway & Haytham Kenway, Reginald Birch & Haytham Kenway
Series: Assassin's Creed Bird AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2018458
Comments: 3
Kudos: 15





	A Forsaken Life

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Bloodied Feathers](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12104964) by [Silverhaunter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverhaunter/pseuds/Silverhaunter). 



> Title taken from the novel of the same name.  
> Inspired by Bloodied Feathers by Silverhaunter. If they are reading this, I'd be happy to hear your opinion!

_15 Years Prior_

The clanging of blades echoed round the courtyard, as the dual between man and boy continued. An abrupt swipe and the boy fell, his feet slipping out from underneath him, ending with a blade to the throat. The man looked grim, before sighing and removing the blade. 

“You’re getting better Haytham but there’s one major flaw to your technique. Do you know what it is?” 

The boy stared at the ground, flushing in shame. 

“No father.” He whispered. 

The man sighed again before sheathing his sword. Crouching down, he lifted Haytham's chin to face him. 

“You follow instruction too well, that’s your problem.” 

This caused Haytham to frown in confusion. 

“But...But Mother said to listen to what you and she speak! And you both yell if I don’t!” 

“That’s not what I mean.” the man's voice was harder now. “we must all obey our parent's as children, but you also must possess the ability to think for yourself. Do you think those who become legends achieved what they did by following instructions? By taking what was said at face value, even by a relative or trusted friend? Of course they didn’t. The truly brilliant, my son, are those who think on their own. And those are they only type of people others will follow to greatness. Do you understand?” 

Hesitantly, Haytham nodded, light eyes reflecting his worry. 

“Good.” The man pulled his son up and clapped his shoulder. “As much as this is something you need to learn however, your only six and your mothers calling. However great a man is, he’ll always have to be wary of his woman.” 

Just then very same woman appeared, looking harried. 

“What are you messing at James, having the boy outside at a time like this!” 

James laughed in response. 

“Relax, he's fine aren't you kid?” 

Haytham nodded. 

“Good. Now let's have some of your soup and get warm now, shall we?” 

The woman hmphed but turned back inside. 

“Come along son.” James said, leading Haytham back in. “Best not keep her waiting.” 

But later that night. As Haytham lay in bed, his Fathers words kept circling through his mind. 

_If I am to be a man, I must learn to think for myself. That’s what he said. Yet I must still follow his word. How is that fair?_

For that question, Haytham did not yet have an answer. 

********** 

_11 Years Prior_

Haytham felt nothing. 

He knew he should feel something, a sense of loss maybe. But right now, he felt nothing but a bone deep ache, and of all things, hungry. 

Crouching on overturned rock, Haytham dully watched as people moved around outside the house – or what remained. Thinking of the rubble brought back a flood of memories in an overwhelming torrent. 

_Haytham swung his sword around, following the steps his father had shown him. At the age of ten James had deemed him skilled enough and old enough to handle a real blade. On his birthday – just a month gone by – James had presented him with the blade. With a twenty-inch blade of fine steel and a ornate handle of black and gold laced in a criss-cross pattern around the hilt, it was a magnificent weapon. His father had told him where he had got it in his travels around the world. Apparently nine years ago James had left for the new British colonies, to establish a trading presence for his company there. While doing so, a fellow from the local council had asked for his assistance in an important matter. James had helped and been given this blade as a thank you. “It serves as a reminder.” He said sternly, looking Haytham in the eye.” That helping your fellow man reaps many rewards, in many forms.” His mother, who had grown tense as soon as James had brought the trip up, quickly moved the conversation on._

_But Haytham wasn’t thinking of that now, instead fully focused on his sword work. His father had grown more stressed and distant lately and had been less involved with his son’s training as a result. Haytham hoped that by getting this just right, his father may take an interest in him again. Haytham was so focused on his task, and determined to succeed, that he didn't immediately register the smell of … something. As soon as he did, Haytham lowered his blade in confusion. It wasn’t a regular smell, and certainty wasn't Cook’s work. In fact, it smelled more like the scents that his father smelled of when he came back from the nearby smithy. It was... smoke!_

_Immediately Haytham straightened and started frantically searching for the cause. If something was on fire, he needed to put it out as quickly as possible._

_Locating the place where the smell was the strongest, Haytham drew back the curtain to reveal a bomb. Eyes widening in fear, he sped out of the room._

_He had just crossed the threshold when it went off, the wave of the impact throwing him forward, head colliding with the wall. Faintly, he registered other explosions, rocking the house and further destabilising the walls. Pushing himself up, Haytham felt pain rip through his shoulder and he noticed for the first time the blood dripping from it._

_But the pain helped to clear the fog from his mind, and Haytham pushed himself up regardless of the fresh wave of agony. Letting loose a pained whimper, Haytham finally managed to rise,_

_The house was ruined, destroyed by the impact of the bombs. Splinters of walls and furniture lay everywhere, with blocks of broken stone covering the ground in a fine layer of rubble and dust. Fire was still spreading, and Haytham realised he had to move, or be trapped up here._

_Rushing for the stairs, Haytham tripped and staggered through the mess, doing his best to avoid the ever-increasing inferno._

_“I have to find them.” Haytham thought furiously, “I have to find my family!”_

_Suddenly a woman’s high-pitched scream pierced the air._

_“MOTHER!”_

_Clambering across the fallen beams, Haytham raced towards the sound. Adrenaline thumping through his veins and increasing his pace, Haytham burst through a door onto a scene that would haunt him forever._

_His father kneeling on the floor, a masked man standing above him, A sword aimed at his father’s heart. A glance his way from the kneeling man, a single whispered word._

_RUN._

_And then the sword pierced his heart._

_Haytham let out a single, wordless scream as the sword pierced deeper, a gurgling cough from James bringing forth a line of blood. The masked man let go of the sword, leaving his father’s body to fall to the ground. Feeling his anger explode in a rush unlike any he had ever had before, Haytham shot towards the man._

_Startled, the masked soldier nonetheless managed to unsheathe his other sword and parry Haytham’s furious blow. The two exchanged equal blows, Haytham’s fuelled by his raging grief. After a swift exchange of blows, Haytham spotted his chance. Ducking under the man’s blade, Haytham used his size to his advantage and shot his blade through the man's ribs and out the other side._

_The man stilled for a moment, staring in stupefied disbelief at the blade sticking out through his ribs. Then reality caught up with him and the man slid off Haytham’s sword and to the ground. Haytham felt a tremble run through his body, shaking in his frozen position stuck staring at the dead man._

_A noise to his left caused Haytham to whip around and he froze once again at the sight of his mother, who appeared severely shaken by this scene. She was staring at the corpses in horror..._

_No, she was staring at **him** in horror. _

_“Momma?” Haytham whispered, taking a hesitant step forward._

_“Get away from me.” She whispered. When Haytham took another step, she screeched and whipped around “Get away from me, you monstrous murderer!”_

_Haytham backpedalled in fear, shock shooting through his already frayed nerves. His momma's normally bright, if tired eyes, were now dark and angry, sparked by hate and painted by the flames swirling around them._

_“You’re as much a monster as they are!”_

_“But momma....”_

_“YOU KILLLED THAT MAN HAYTHAM!” She was full on screaming at him now, terrifying in her grief and rage. He distantly felt tears leaving his eyes at her hate. “HE MAY HAVE KILLED YOUR FATHER, BUT HE STILL SHOULD’T HAVE DIED BY YOUR HAND!”_

_A hysterical laugh was let loose then. “Oh, your father would be proud. He always did have a penchant for revenge. That, and taking every whore that would have him.” She stared him in the face, noticing his tears for the first time. She snorted at them now. “Don’t expect any comfort from me over your tears, or sympathy from others. They are a weakness and a luxury few can afford, and none should have.”_

_Haytham felt his heart freeze at her words, and as the flames continued to devour his family's home, he distantly registered a call from outside, even as his mother’s hateful gaze continued to bore into his soul..._

“Haytham.” 

Jolting out of his thoughts, Haytham faintly registered a hand on his shoulder. He flinched violently, and the hand quickly pulled back. 

“You’re alright boy. There’s nothing to fear here.” 

Haytham remembered that voice distantly – though from where he couldn’t think – his thoughts seemed to be spiralling out of control, and his breathing was definitely too fast. 

“Just breath, boy. Follow what I do.” 

Latching onto the voice like a drowning man, Haytham followed his exaggerated breathing pattern until his own returned to normal. The face in front of him became clear, but Haytham still couldn’t remember him. 

“Better now?” At his hesitant nod, the man seemed to relax. His dark eyes swept over Haytham, taking in his ragged appearance. “Not sure if you remember me, but I’m Reginald Birch? I was your father’s business partner?” 

Now Haytham remembered him. Birch was often around, discussing business with his father. Haytham hadn’t interacted with him much, having been instructed to stay away while they were busy. But thinking of his father brought on fresh memories of the events prior, and he quickly worked to get his breathing back under control. 

“Yes, I came over as soon as I heard what happened. I know you probably do not want to talk about this so soon, but the doctors do not think your mother is going to be in any state to raise you anytime soon. I offered to look after you until then – my house is more than big enough for you and I. This is all of course, if you want to?” 

Haytham stared at him for a second. Right now, he didn’t know what he wanted. His house was destroyed, his father dead, his mother … his mother hated him. Blinking away the tears rapidly They are a weakness Haytham straightened and met Birch’s calm gaze. The words he said next would cement many destinies, more so than he could know. 

“Yes, thank you.” 

************* 

_5 Years Prior_

Haytham walked down the paved halls, detachedly marvelling at the incredible structure of the Palace. His boots silently tracked across the floor, as he read through the paper Birch wanted in for the Order. Thinking about the order still caused a thrill to shoot up Haytham’s spine – even after being told two months prior, he still felt slightly awed to be part of such an old organisation. 

Of course, he had questioned where Birch had been going for years. Haytham reflected on the past years of life, and all he had been taught. Sword work, climbing, espionage, martial arts … all things Haytham had been trained in under his Father, but under Reginald they had increased in pace exponentially. And that wasn’t even including the vast amount of history, maths, geography, politics and other much needed skills Reginald had been drilling into his head. In hindsight, Haytham should have guessed a lot sooner that Reginald was part of something bigger. But in his grief and wonderment, he guessed he hadn’t thought to look to closely at what his mysterious benefactor had been up to. 

Reginald had talked to him about that, of course. While making it clear that Haytham was always to follow orders in all things, he had also been encouraged to find out what he could from any situation. Even supposedly superfluous information could be vital at a later date. So Haytham had made sure to keep a sharper eye on clues, particularly ones that could be gleaned from people. 

Haytham was knocked out of his musings however when a sharp gust of wind blew the paper right out of his hand, and through the nearby window. 

_“Darn it all!”_ Haytham swore furiously at himself. 

Glancing around, Haytham realised he was completely alone. Satisfied with his ambiguity, he leapt for the window. The paper had gotten caught on a rooftop across a small gap between the window and a neighbouring roof. Smirking softly, Haytham jumped from the ledge and onto the tilled structure. 

A change in the winds moved the paper on, forcing Haytham to give chase. Ducking and leaping around the chimneys and roofs, Haytham kept a careful eye on the paper and any potential witnesses. Birch would absolutely murder him for getting spotted running across Buckingham Palace in broad daylight. 

Finally catching up with the paper, Haytham grabbed and pocketed it. Then suddenly he felt the old tiles slip, and before he could think he was crashing for the floor below. 

Haytham’s blood ran cold with fear, and he opened his eyes wide in panic. A strange sensation shook through his body, and for a second the world seemed to become filtered with shades of white and grey. Closing his eyes Haytham waited for impact... 

Which never arrived, to his shock. Opening his eyes, Haytham gazed down. He appeared to be hovering a few inches above the ground, and the world was still grey. Looking around in surprise, Haytham noticed something in the corner of his eye – a wing. 

_His_ wing. 

The were no words in any language to describe Haytham’s shock. 

It appeared his conscious realisation of his apparent change in form was enough to knock him out of it, and Haytham let loose a soft groan of pain as his body – his thankfully human body – hit the ground. 

Before Haytham could even attempt to start considering the numerous possibilities and explanations for that, a bell rang, signifying that Birch’s meeting was about to begin. 

Scrambling up, Haytham quickly headed off to the assigned place. There would be time to think about this later – right now he needed to get to the meeting, or his survival now would be pointless in the face of Birch’s wrath. 

****************** 

_3 Years Prior_

As he strolled through Reginald’s garden, Haytham kept a close eye on his surroundings. Bringing up his Sight slightly, he gave the area a cursory scan before moving on. While he was much better at bringing up his second sight only, Haytham still didn’t want to risk using it too much in where Birch or another Templar could see him. 

Having reached the fence, Haytham glanced around once again. Once fully certain he was alone, he pushed aside the fence board and moved into the forest behind the house. 

Quickening his pace as he penetrated deeper into the twilight-tinged woods, Haytham broke into a full out run when he was out of view. As he sped up, he called on that second sight once again, but much stronger this time. 

Just as he shot out from the woods and out onto the cliff, Haytham felt his form began to shift. Closing his eyes (previous experience had shown keeping them open was _not_ a good idea) he made the jump of the cliff and fell into a dive. 

Moments later he shot back up, now in his second form – a golden eagle. Research and looking at his feathers had shown that was what he was, but somehow some part of him just knew it. Shaking of his conflicting thoughts, Haytham focused on flying around the cliff. 

It was admittedly a magnificent view. The forest ran all around the top of the cliff face, and the waves crashed against the base in a sort of natural harmony. With the setting sun warming his wings, Haytham treasured this time where the world was peaceful. No Templars. No responsibility. No people. Just a peaceful, natural harmony. 

Or it was, until the bird crashed into him. 

The momentum sent them both spiralling downwards towards the ocean below. Haytham managed to detangle himself from the other bird and spiral into a more controlled glide, his wingtips skimming the water. The other bird – Haytham was fairly sure it was an Osprey – also recovered and took after him. But what most surprised Haytham was the glimpse of intelligence inside bright blue eyes – a rare colour for an Osprey. 

Could it be, that this was someone like him? A human, with the power to become an animal? 

Right now, however he needed to focus on shaking them off. Whoever they were, the attack suggested their intent wasn't friendly. So for now Haytham focused on shaking them off. 

Apparently they were displeased with this idea and took after him on a right merry chase. They - if it was a person – were good, with a skill in flight to rival his own. Haytham had the advantage of knowing the terrain, allowing him the upper hand. 

Re-entering the woods, he weaved around trees and plants, twirling in a circle until he was behind his opponent. They appeared to realise he had disappeared and tried to turn around but Haytham charged them, colliding and changing form in a fluid move that sent them towards the ground once again. His predictions proved correct when the Osprey also transformed and together they hit the forest floor, landing with Haytham on top and a blade at their throat. 

His attacker moved their hands up in surrender and Haytham cast them a quick evaluative glance. Around his age, the man was blonde haired, faintly scarred, and looking back at him with eyes that reminded him distinctly of a raging sea. It was the man's clothes which interested him the most, however. What upon first glance resembled an Assassin garb, there were certain... adjustments that made him look more like a pirate or outlaw from his Father’s stories. 

Before Haytham could start asking what the bloody hell this fool thought he was doing, said fool spoke up. 

“Hope you're not planning to stab me with that thing.” The fool had the audacity to smirk at him. “Would make for a terrible first meeting.” 

Raising an eyebrow at the fool, Haytham made sure to let incredulity leak into his voice. “I think making this not terrible has already become impossible. What the hell were you doing, you bloody fool? And who exactly are you?” 

The idiot was till smirking when he replied, but his voice was dead serious. “Well, I was saving your life, or at least your secret. And who am I? The name’s Edward James Kenway. You may have heard of me. I’m your brother.” 

Kenway. 

Brother. 

Edward smirked at his obviously dumbfounded expression. “Yeah, it’s a lot to take in. I was surprised as well, discovering I was related to some English twat...” 

Haytham sighed. He really _was_ a fool. But apparently more than that.

Brother.

 _Well there goes my peaceful day._

***************** 

_Now_

There was a lot of movement and chatter across the deck. Haytham moved through, most getting out of the way once they noticed his approach. Reaching the brunt of the crowd, they parted to allow him access to the drama. Immediately noticing Edward’s conspicuous absence, he turned to Arno for an explanation. 

“Someone jumped off the cliff.” Arno gestured to said cliff as he continued. “They got shot in the back too. Edward went overboard to try and save them. Jacob’s gone to get some supplies if they survived.” 

Haytham nodded in understanding, turning his gaze to the water. He and Arno waited in silence for Edward’s return. 

A few minutes passed before Edward’s head pierced the water, a still figure in his arms. Swimming over the Jackdaw’s hull, several pairs of hands reached down to pull their Captain up. 

Haytham stepped back as Edward was hauled onto the deck, and the apparently unconscious man with him. Arno crouched down as Jacob returned with the medical supplies. 

“Are you injured?” Arno asked Edward even as he checked the figure for signs of life. 

Edward shook his head, coughing up water. “I’m fine, but he was shot in the back. I think it redirected his fall – probably saved his life too. Though that was most likely not the intended aim.” 

Haytham’s expression turned grim – he wasn’t the only one to recognise those robes then. If a man dressed in the signature look of an Assassin was attacked in Al Mualim’s territory – even the edge of it – than he was likely a traitor. And the Assassins had little mercy for traitors. 

Arno had pulled part of the man’s coat of, tearing the yellow undershirt partway and pulling the black overcoat off. He quickly turned to washing the bullet wound. 

“You know, fairly sure I'm the only person who’s clothes you should take off.” said Jacob, trying to lighten the mood probably. “You're setting me up for jealousy, and then where would we be?” 

Arno rolled his eyes. “Not really the time Jacob.” He tried to sound serious but mostly appeared amused by his boyfriend's antics. 

Haytham turned back to Edward, pulling him up from the deck. “You know if he survives the Assassins will be after him.” Haytham looked into Edward’s eyes, gauging his response. “You do know that correct?” 

Edward sighed. “I couldn’t just let him die like that. It would be too much like...” he trailed off but Haytham got his meaning. “Besides, that what you're for, right? Out plotting all who come for us?” 

Edward was back to that irritating half-smirk, half-smile that promised both mischievous and adventure was to follow. Haytham matched it with a smirk of his own. 

“Of course. Nice for you to finally admit you’d be lost without me.” 

Haytham fully realised that his life was about to change again. But over the years he had learnt much, and he knew that no matter followed he’d be ready to face it. 

And no future could be too bad, so long as it still held the sound of his brother's laughter.

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd - all mistaked are mine.  
> Comment/Kudos are appreicaited. Constructive critisism is welcome, but please be polite.  
> To all readers, I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
